


Drunk as A Skunk and Even Worse to Deal With

by Godspeed_Cowboy



Category: Naruto
Genre: . . ., Alcohol, BUT IT JUST, Bottled up emotions, Character Death, Conflict, Dirty Jokes, Drinking, Drunk Uchiha Madara, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Excessive Drinking, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Drinking, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I'll see myself out, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lies, Long Suffering Senju Tobirama, Loving relationships, M/M, Madara is POSSIBLY an Alcoholic, Memories, Mild hurt, POV Tobirama Senju, Past Relationship(s), Sad, Secret Relationship, Senju Tobirama Has Issues, Senju Tobirama Needs a Hug, Senju Tobirama-centric, Tobirama doesn't like talking about Izuna and neither does Madara, Tobirama is the designated Madara-Wrangler, Uchiha Madara Is a Dork, Zetsu you fucker, bottles up, but it isn't Tobirama who does it, conflicted feelings, conflicting stories, gut feelings, ha, hurt with little to no comfort, it is implied a little bit that Madara drinks to cope, kinda happens, rated T because of drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25879300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godspeed_Cowboy/pseuds/Godspeed_Cowboy
Summary: Tobirama picks Madara up from the bar, a familiar routine.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Izuna, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 19
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I have just been pumping content out left and right, this is like, what, my fourth fic posted today? Anyways, yeehaw, some more sad MadaTobi to make you go :( and >:(
> 
> Twitter: @YeehawMitski

Late one night, there’s a knock at his front door.

He’s making tea for himself in the kitchen, having just gotten home from the tower, ready to take off the collar and happuri and relax. What would someone need from him at this time?

He wipes his hands on his shirt, a comforting gesture somehow, and he makes sure to turn off his stove to let the tea steep instead of burn. His footsteps are soft against the wooden floorboards as he comes to a stop, unlocking the door, and pulling it open. In front of him is an Uchiha, one he’s seen around a few times. Strange. What would they want from him?

“How may I help you?” he says.

“Tobirama-sama. It’s Madara-sama,” they say, “go collect him. He’s at the bar nearest to the Uchiha Compound.”

And then they disappear in a blur. Hm. His hand comes up to rub at his face and rest under his eyes. Tea can wait, he has a wayward Uchiha to find. If they’re sending him to collect the man, then Madara must be drunk off his ass by now. 

He finds his sandals, discarded by the couch, and slips them on before heading out the door. The road crunches under his feet. He walks to take his time because he isn’t looking forward to a drunk Madara who always asks him the same question when he’s like this.

The air smells sweet, like fruit. He drags in a breath, loudly. 

Eventually he finds himself in front of the bar. He breathes out. Can’t put off the inevitable forever. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to, though. Inside, he hears shouting. Familiar shouting. Madara must be having a _blast_.

He steps inside, the door swinging shut behind him, the bell above ringing. It’s a nice little bar, one that’s known for being decent in terms of pricing and cleanliness. The air inside is cool, unlike the humid summer air outside he was just in moments ago. No one turns their heads to look at him, they know him well enough around here by now to know that he won’t be staying.

He wants to laugh at how they’ve come to know him as the designated Madara-sitter, but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his face as blank as ever.

His sharp eyes scan the room, looking for the man, and he finds him rather quickly. Madara is huddled up at a table laughing to a stranger who laughs along with him, boisterous. As he always is when he gets some alcohol in his system. He sighs, because a rowdy Madara is hard to deal with.

He makes his way through the small crowd, it’s a little busy tonight. Madara doesn’t notice him at first when he stands beside him, so he waits, arms crossed. When Madara does notice him, he stills, slowly turns, blinks owlishly up at him, and then smiles a smile that rivals Hashirama’s own.

“Tooobiii!” he yells, slurring.

He jumps up out of his seat, clumsy. And the next thing he knows, he’s got an armful of Drunk Madara whose arms are wrapped around him like an octopus as he babbles into the crook of his neck and presses messy, wet, affectionate kisses to it. 

“Hellooo, Tobiii,” he says, “hiiii!”

“Hello,” he grunts, grabbing Madara around his waist and trying to keep him from slipping down to the floor, “hnng, Madara. I think you’ve had. Enough. To drink.”

Madara is no help at all. He just giggles and twirls a strand of hair with his finger in a rather sloppy manner.

“M’be, m’be, maaaaybeee,” he sings, “ahaha!”

He sighs. 

“Come on, Madara, let’s get you home.”

This, of course, makes Madara whine like a child.

“Noooooo! I don’t wannaaaa!”

“ . . . ”

“ . . . Buuuut m’be youuurs?”

He sighs. Of course.

“Fine.”

This earns him a rather _loud_ cheer, a hollar that makes him flinch. 

Madara starts to fall to the side, and he swears, grappling at his clothes. Madara is heavier than he looks, and it’s a hassle for even shinobi to try and deadlift him. Doesn’t mean they don’t try, though. 

They stumble out the door together, with one of Madara’s arms slung over his shoulder and his own arm around the drunkard’s waist. He’s talking about him, he realises.

“You’re jus’ r’lly pretty is allllll. Like . . . stare in’t’ur eyes all day kinda pretty.”

“That’s nice.”

“Your voice. Your voice, also pretty.”

“Thank you, Madara.”

“Prettyyy.”

“ _Madara_.”

They stumble through the streets, and at one point He has to let go of Madara so that he can crouch and throw up whatever it is he ate in his time at the bar. Slowly, he begins to quiet down. Tobirama dreads what will come next. 

They make it to his home, through the door, and he has to let go again to lock it. This time, though, Madara whines, and clings to his back.

“Nooooo, don’t. Y’r w’rm.”

“Madara, I can barely understand you.”

“Shhh, i’s nigh’ nigh’ time.”

“Mad-”

“SHHH!”

A sigh leaves his lips, and he struggles successfully out of the older man’s grip, once again able to hold him up by his armpits. Their feet drag and tangle as he makes his way to the bedroom, Madara making sounds that were probably supposed to be words. 

The bed creaks under Madara, as Tobirama carefully puts him down. Then he sets to work with the older man. Removing his outer clothes, leaving him in underwear, taking off his shoes, braiding his hair quickly but efficiently, putting a bucket by the bedside for when he wakes up tomorrow. It’s only when he pulls the blanket up on Madara, places a kiss on his forehead, and goes to pull away that Madara finally does what he’s expecting.

He grabs Tobirama by the sleeve, his grip weak. He says one words, quiet though it sounds so loud in Tobirama’s ears.

“ . . . Why?”

Tobirama swallows thickly, “ . . . Why what, Madara?”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

His heart beat picks up, he grows jittery, and-!

“ . . . Why . . . Why did you kill Izuna?”

Ah. There it is. The conversation they’ve had a hundred times before. 

He settles himself on the edge of the bed, one hand reaching out to brush away the flyaways of Madara’s braid. He smiles, a sad little thing.

“You won’t like my answer.”

“Oh? Why?”

“You never do, Silly.”

“Tell me? Please?”

Tobirama sighs, “ . . . I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“ . . . I didn’t kill him . . . I didn’t kill your brother. I didn’t kill _my best friend_ . . . I didn’t kill Izuna,” his smile turns sad, his hand caressing Madara’s cheek. “and you’ll never believe me when I say it. And I think . . . I think that’s the worst part about the answer.”

Madara grumbles something incoherent, probably a complaint, as his eyes finally close. Tobirama pats his cheek, stands up, and brushes off dirt that isn’t there. 

He leaves the room with a heavy feeling in his heart, and he goes back to his tea that he left on the stove. He dumps it, makes a new pot, because the last one cooled down too much. The bubbling water lulls him into a sense of peace. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama and Izuna's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Finally, as promised, I bring y'all the second chapter! I keep my promises, even if they take a while to fulfill!
> 
> I listened to the soundtrack of an anime that I binged today with my sibling while writing this! The anime was called Japan Sinks 2020, and it follows a girl named Ayumu and her family who try to get through apocalyptic events as Japan begins to sink below sea level. I highly recommend it, it was incredible. It was made by the same studio that made Devilman Crybaby, and Japan Sinks actually made me cry really, really, really hard! This show pulled no punches. Though warning, there is a lot of blood and violence in it, graphic depictions of injury and death, attempted sexual assault that happens twice, a brief sex scene, a cult at one point, usage of drugs, and this show is absolutely not afraid to kill off it's main cast. And if you watched and liked DMCB, I think you'll like this as well! I may even write a story soon based off of it. I also recommend listening to the soundtrack while reading this, and you guys can assign certain songs to certain scenes!
> 
> Anyways, I'll stop rambling now, and let y'all get to reading! Tags will be updated to match this next one appropriately, as this fic was originally apart of a series of mine and will be written as such, though obviously without the series part. Enjoy!

Tobirama is lying down on somebody’s chest and twirling dark hair around his fingers. Hands run through his own hair, threading little wild flowers into, plucked straight from the ground they’re resting on. From the body beneath him, humming.

“You know, Tobira, you should use some of that hair product I sent you one of these days, you could use it. Tons of split ends on you, good sir.”

Tobirama laughs, softly, and he pats the chest he’s lying on. 

“Oh hush. I don’t have time for my hair, because unlike you, I’m not lazy.”

“You mean overwork myself half to death? No thanks.”

“I said hush!”

Laughter from both.

“For real though, you do need to start using it. It’ll just go to waste! You can’t keep it around like some scented candle.”

“Watch me.”

“ _Tobirama_ ,” comes a playful growl.

“ _Izuna_ ,” he says back, and he lifts his head. 

Beautiful dark eyes stare back, sparkling with a smile. 

Izuna huffs at him and shakes his head.

“You’re a stubborn man, Tobira. Just watch, one day you’re gonna go bald because you didn’t listen to me and use that hair product.”

“In that case I’ll just steal some of yours. You look like you’ve got enough to spare, Izu.”

“ _Gasp_. You _wouldn’t_.”

Tobirama stifles a giggle as he pulls himself up, closer to Izuna’s face so he can rub their noses together, “Oh, I _so_ would.”

Izuna squishes his face, brings him closer, their lips almost brushing, “Tough talk . . . for a guy with a _small cock_.”

That’s what gets Tobirama to break, a bark of laughter followed by snorting.

“Asshole!” he says through his chortles, “We were having a moment!”

“Were we? I thought it was a staring competition! Not my fault your eyes always look so intense!”

Tobirama quiets down, and his smile is soft.

“You love them, though.”

Izuna’s smile might as well be ten times softer.

“You’re right. I do. I love them more than anything in the world. Well, second to you off course.”

Tobirama laughs again and they lapse into comfortable silence, Izuna continuing to weave the flowers into his hair while Tobirama gradually becomes more relaxed. 

They hadn’t always been this way. At first, they really had started out as enemies. And then they’d ended up colliding on a mission to which they then had to work together to keep from failing. It was a wonderful and awkward time for the two, as they stumbled through their hatred for each other, sharp attitudes and sharper tongues fighting to be the most logical. In the end, it had been embarrassing, but they’d also learnt many things about each other. 

And then it’s as though life just kind of . . . allowed this. Allowed them to become tentative frenemies, then even more tentative friends, first meeting on missions and then meeting in secret. And then Izuna had declared Tobirama to be his best friend, his only one in the entire world. They’d been young then, ages eleven to fifteen.

And then something changed.

And here they were, two years later, with Izuna having professed his love for Tobirama in a way that laid his entire heart out, at the age of fifteen. And Tobirama could do nothing but accept, and it felt so, so right to do.

Tobirama sighs.

“I need to go back soon . . . Hashirama is probably wondering where I am already.”

“ _Sigh_ . . . Yeah. I _guess_ I’ll let you go this time.”

Tobirama laughs at him as he stands, and he offers a hand. Izuna takes it, grateful. Tobirama is pretty sure he’s never seen a more beautiful smile in all his life. They hold hands, just a few seconds too long. Izuna leans forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“See you next time? At the river northeast? Fingers crossed and pinky promised?”

Tobirama plants a kiss on his forehead.

“You bet. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Izu. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And so they part ways, fingers sliding slowly against each other as they’re pulled away, both in the directions of their respective clan lands.

Tobirama takes his time going home, savoring the feelings that stir inside of him. He smiles all the way. Izuna was one of the best things that happened to him, he thinks. As he nears his home, the trees thinning, he throws on a henge to hide the flowers in his hair and the smile on his face, covered in fake dirt.

Sure enough, pacing at the gates, Hashirama. He looks up at the sound of his approach.

“Tobirama! There you are!” he says as he throws his hands up, and then he’s pushing the younger man by his shoulders.

“Hurry! Go get cleaned up, we’ll be late! Honestly, you need to stop training for so long when you know you have important meetings coming up! If I can’t avoid my work, neither can you, Tobi!”

Once shoved into his home, the henge falls off. Now to deal with the flowers. 

He walks into his bedroom, over to one of the floorboards by his bed, lifts it up, and beneath is a hollow space filled in with a small box. Something he bought to keep the small things Izuna gave him. He takes it out, opens it. 

Inside, there’s photos, trinkets, jewelry, just small things that Izuna wanted him to have. His favorite thing is the photo that he and Izuna took together, cute poses and smiles, and scrawled at the bottom in his beloved’shand writing, “T+I”.

He rakes his hand through his hair, carefully, and he takes his small, colorful pile, and covers them in his chakra to keep them from wilting. He places them into the box with a gentleness that most would not even dare to think he has.

He puts it back under the floors and stands, stretching, breathing in, and starts to get ready.

Izuna really is his everything.

They meet again and again, over and over, in different locations each time. They talk, they cuddle, exchange gifts and play games and train together, and hell, one time Izuna is daring enough to pin him against the tree and, well, Tobirama won’t say anything beyond it being a good time.

All the while, they are unaware of a third presence. It watches them from the ground, the trees, hidden. And it doesn’t like what it sees.

Things will change very, very soon, and nobody will take kindly to it.

One day, while Tobirama is reading in his bed, he hears a tap on his window. He looks up, and is surprised to see a messenger hawk off all things sitting there. He puts down the book, walks over and opens the window, and as soon as he takes the scroll from it, it takes off.

Huh, strange.

He opens it, and Izuna’s handwriting stares back.

_Meeting place changed, emergency. Meet me at the meadow in the south, at ten sharp._

And that makes Tobirama worried. What was the emergency and why did they have to change meeting spots? He tugs his bottom lip with his teeth, peeling the skin off. 

Well, he trusts Izuna. He will not question his lover’s decision. 

Tobirama goes back to his book, forgetting his unsettled feeling as he gets lost in his book again, and waits for ten o’clock. 

Izuna is awoken from his slumber by aggressive tapping on his window. He should probably go and stop that so nobody wakes up, it’s a sleep in day after all, but at the same time he absolutely does _not_ want to get up. But the tapping . . .

Said tapping gets louder. _Ugh_.

He stumbles out of his bed, nearly tripping, and he rips the window open. An angry squawk greets his ears and he cringes.

“Shhh!” he says, squinting at the bird, “What is it? Some people are trying to get some _sleep_ around here!”

The bird takes out a scroll from the pouch strapped to it’s chest, dropping on the windowsill before taking off, cowering at the sight of his scowl. He takes it, opens in, squinting.

What he reads makes his eyes clear up fast and his sleep fade away from his body quicker than lightning. Staring up at him, a message written by Tobirama.

_Meeting canceled, emergency. So sorry._

Izuna blinks, concerned, and something heavy settles in his gut. A feeling that warns him. He begins to worry. What was so bad that made his Tobira cancel the meeting? How bad was it? He begins to pick at his nails. He should trust Tobirama, but something isn’t right. But he doesn’t know what. 

Izuna does not bother going back to sleep, because he knows he won’t be able to.

Tobirama arrives at the meadow at exactly ten, but Izuna is nowhere to be seen. Ah, something must be holding him up then. Nothing wrong with running a little late, he supposes. He settles down on a tree stump nearby, legs crossed, waiting patiently, humming the tune that Izuna so often hums.

“Izuna!”

Madara bursts into his bedroom, loudly, and he flails, falling off his bed.

“Aniki! What!?”

“Get dressed, there’s a skirmish at the border to the west with some Senju, word says Hashirama is going to be there and I know damn well that those newbies don’t know how to handle him. And that means his brother will be with him most likely.”

Madara leaves the room and Izuna stares. Was this possibly the emergency that Tobirama had told him about? Maybe he can ask when he sees the other, in one of their private whispered fighting convos. He goes to his closet to get his armour, eager to see the white haired man.

The sun has moved by a significant amount by now, and Izuna still hasn’t shown up. Tobirama’s leg bounces, and he begins to chew on his lip again. He’s very worried, but at the same time he can’t just go looking for the other. For all he knows, it could be a clan concern. So no, he can’t just get up and find the other, no matter how much he wants to. That doesn’t make it feel any less better, though, his anxiety eating away at his stomach.

Stubbornly, he forces his leg to stop bouncing. But he keeps chewing on his lip.

“Soon, Tobirama, soon . . . maybe . . . _hopefully_. . .” he mutters to himself.

The Uchiha brothers arrive at the skirmish which by now seems to have become a full battle.

“Looks like we got here just in time,” Madara says, and he jumps into the fight, finding Hashirama with ease.

Izuna looks around, and sure enough, a flash of white hair and red eyes. His Senju. He runs over, and their swords clash.

“Tobira, what’s wrong?” he asks, quiet but certainly able to be heard by the man mere inches away from his face. 

Tobirama does not answer, and his face is closed off, too much for Izuna’s comfort. He looks mad. 

“Was it something I did?” is his first question, his first thought.

Tobirama still does not answer, and they’re pushed apart. But Tobirama rebounds quickly, his sword and water jutsu hitting with accuracy.

_Deadly_ accuracy.

“Tobirama!” he whisper-shouts, “What the hell!? What’s gotten into you!?”

Still no answer. Izuna begins to fight back with the same intensity, and it seems like that’s what Tobirama wanted, because he smiles at him. Well, at least they’re starting to get somewhere.

It feels like they fight for hours, and by now Izuna is _very_ concerned about this silent treatment.

“Tobirama?” he pants, raising his sword once more, though his arms ache.

No reply still. Tobirama raises his sword.

“Tobirama, I-!”

Faster than he can see it, Tobirama appears right in front of him.

And his sharp blade finds its way between his ribs, hitting his lungs. He gaps. Tobirama smirks.

They make eye contact and _immediately_ , he knows that something isn’t _right_.

“You’re . . . you’re not Tobirama. You’re not _my Tobira_.

Not-Tobirama laughs at him. And blinks.

Golden eyes stare back at him as the clone presses a finger to his pale lips, shushing.

Izuna gasps.

“Who-who- _what_ are y-!”

The sword in his ribs shoves upwards and his world goes dark with blinding pain.

“IZUNA!”

Not-Tobirama leaps back quickly, face stoic and eyes red yet again, as Madara catches his brother’s falling body and Hashirama begins to blaber about peace while simultaneously yelling at his not-little-brother-brother.

At around seven P.M., Uchiha Izuna takes his last breath, his last words unheard in the dark, empty medic room. His hands twitch, and they reach out for someone who isn’t there.

“Tobira . . .”

The moon is high and the sky, and Tobirama is frowning, frustrated. Izuna had not shown up at all. He huffs, stands. So much for this. He’ll make Izuna think twice about missing a meeting again like this. 

Tobirama stomps back home, huffing, and when he gets to the gate, someone stops him.

“Tobirama-sama, Hashirama-sama requests your presence in his office. Now.”

Oh _shit_. He’d completely forgotten. Hashirama. He nods to the person.

“Thank you.”

And then he’s off.

When he enters his brother’s office, he is immediately put off by the very air of the place. Hashirama’s face is tired, stony, resting on his hands.

Tobirama closes the door behind him and Hashirama breaths in, looks at him.

“How could you?” are the first words that leave his mouth. 

Tobirama startles at the tone, quiet and accusing. He turns into a blank slate, locking down emotions. Tonight will not be pleasant. He can feel it.

“How could I _what_ , Aniki?”

“Izuna!” he yells suddenly, and for a moment Tobirama fears he’s found out the secret, until, “How could you kill him like that!?”

Tobirama’s heart stops and the breath in his lungs freeze as ice spreads through his veins.

“ . . . Excuse me?”

“How many times must I say it, Tobirama!?” The lack of nickname shows how serious Hashirama is, “How could you kill Izuna!?”

What? Izuna? Killed? Him killing Izuna? The idea is laughable, and he really wants Hashirama to say he’s just pulling a mean joke right now, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for Tobirama to answer.

Answer for something he did not do, would never dream of doing.

“ . . . _Hashirama_ ,” he says, hiding the quiver in his voice, “I think you are mistaken, I was out all day-”

Hashirama suddenly stands from his desk, voice raising.

“If _you_ were out all day then tell me, _Tobirama_ , tell me how I saw you, _saw you_ , kill Izuna with _your_ bare hands!? How can I make peace with that!? How can I make peace when you practically ruined our chances at it with your stunt!?”

And Tobirama . . . Tobirama doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

“I . . .”

Hashirama sighs, and he slumps back in his seat, waving his hand.

“Just go . . . if you won’t answer me _now_ , then I know you _certainly_ won’t answer me _later_. . .”

Tobirama leaves without a word as he speed walks to his home.

Once inside, he slumps against the door, looking at his hands.

Somehow, he sees blood that was never there.

That night he cries. He cries, ugly and open, red faced, puffy eyed, and snotty. Scattered around him, the items of his box as he shakes.

The flowers are wilted, dead. 

In Tobirama’s hands, his favorite picture that he clutches close to his chest, heart aching.

His one and only is no more.

(From the window, a black and white golden eyed creature smiles, all sharp teeth. A job well done, according to it.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in short, Tobirama and Izuna started out as friends and eventually became more, Izuna becoming Tobirama's first romantic relationship, something that was not just strictly platonic or strictly sexual. This relationship is kept a secret from everyone that they know out of both logic and fear. Zetsu, after some observation, decides that this relationship will get in the way of things, so he takes maters into his own hands. The aftermath leaves Tobirama devastated and his relationships with Hashirama and Madara become rather shaky and unstable, up until the creation of the village, to which after some time, Madara begins to show romantic interests in Tobirama.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this!!! feel free to drop kudos or a comment! If you wanna know the story behind Izuna's death, maybe I'll tell it, but only if y'all want me to. :)


End file.
